


The Rot Sets In

by anysin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dominant Jonathan Sims, Face Slapping, Gangbang, Giant Slugs, Hurt/Comfort Gone Wrong, Liberties Taken With Slug Biology, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Non-Con, Riding, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Spanking, Tim/Jon smut will be in the third chapter, Xeno, set in s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Tim's night is full of unpleasant encounters. Giant Slugs/Tim, Jon/Tim.1st chapter: Tim makes the mistake of going into a dark alley.2nd chapter: Jon is there when Tim returns to his house, and things deteriorate.3rd chapter: Jon lets Tim have it.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Tim Stoker/The Corruption
Comments: 19
Kudos: 91





	1. First Encounter(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim makes the mistake of going into a dark alley. Giant Slugs/Tim, noncon as fuck.

Tim is walking home from the supermarket when he realizes he's being followed again.

Before, this realization made him want to bellow in rage, but now all that comes out of him is a sigh. He knew the intervention was good for nothing; while Jon backed off from everyone else, he still watches Tim all the time, even following him around when he thinks that Tim can't tell. Tim is almost at his house, but he decides enough is enough; this is the last time he'll let Jon trail him home. Tim turns around, facing the street behind him and frowning when he finds it empty.

"I know you're there, Jon!" He starts to walk towards the nearest mouth of an alley; it's the only place where Jon could have ducked into in such a short time, and Tim is sure that Jon wasn't far behind him this time around. "We're going to fucking talk about this!" he calls out, stepping into the alley.

The alley is dark, making him feel like a horror movie victim who is about to walk into a trap, but Tim keeps walking, keeping an eye out for Jon-shaped things. He's not going to feel like a victim anymore after tonight, nor ever again. "Come on now," he mutters under his breath, narrowing his eyes when he sees something moving in the back of the alley.

He doesn't get a chance to identify what he's looking at when something drops down right on top of him.

The huge weight knocks the air right out of Tim's body, leaving him gasping for breath as he falls down. The thing that sprawls on top of him is big, heavy- and slimy, leaving his skin sticky when it touches his neck. Tim stiffens, remembering the worms and how they had slithered and swarmed over him; he manages to lift his head up just enough to see what lies in the end of the alley, and instantly wishes he had kept his head down.

There is a huge brown mass sitting in his line of sight, writhing and squirming all over. Heads and antennae are rising up from the pile, all turning towards Tim, and now there is no mistaking them: they're slugs. Enormous slugs, all of which are now moving, splitting up from the mass and crawling towards him.

"Oh, hell no!"

Terror surging within him, Tim braces his hands against the ground and tries to push himself up, but the slug on top of him is also moving, curling its massive tail around Tim's legs. It smacks its huge head hard against the back of Tim's skull, the strike strong enough to daze Tim for a moment; by the time he can see straight again, he has been maneuvered over to his side and the slug is fully wrapped around him, rubbing its body against Tim's in a slow, steady rhythm. It's warm and damp, smelling of dirt; Tim shudders.

He starts shouting, twisting and wriggling against the slug; he needs to get away, he's not going to get eaten again! He presses his palms against the slug's unpleasant, slippery flesh and tries to push, but he is pinned tight against it, and the more he thrashes, the harder it squeezes him. Gagging for air now, Tim glances up to see the slug lift its head again, which is now opening up from the side.

"No!" Tim starts to struggle when he sees something blue and translucent squirm out of the slug's head, and while Tim knows nothing about slug biology, he doesn't have to guess what that thing is. "No, get away! Somebody help me!"

It's hard to shout when he can barely breathe, and before Tim knows it the slug smacks him again, stunning him. Slug brings the blue- brings _its cock_ over to Tim's mouth, sliding it past his lips and wrenching his jaws wide open, pushing it all the way to the back of his throat. Tim tries to scream, tries to bite down on the thick girth in his mouth, but he can barely move his jaws and his teeth might as well not exist; the blue cock thrusts in his mouth, making him gag while the slug keeps rubbing its body against Tim's, dragging its coils over his groin.

Tim is utterly mortified when he starts to grow hard.

The slug rubs against him, covering Tim all over with its thick slime and massaging his trapped body. Tim soon realizes that the rubbing isn't only intended to arouse him; the more the slug writhes against him, the more tattered his clothes become, until there are only strings and bits left and his keys fall clinging to the ground. He shudders when his bare skin presses against the slug's slick flesh, and he tries to bite down on the mass in his mouth again.

It's a mistake. The moment his teeth finally sink into the weird, sponge-like flesh of the slug cock, it starts to swell in his mouth, so fast and so forcefully he's afraid his jaw will become unhinged. Even more worryingly, the cock pushes deep into his throat, blocking his airways and spiking his panic. Tim thrashes hard in the slug's embrace, tears rising into his eyes.

Mercifully enough, the cock withdraws, letting Tim breathe again but staying in the cavern of his mouth, twitching and squirming against his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. Tim inhales deeply through his nostrils, trying not to sob around the lively cock.

He chokes out a sob anyway when he realizes that none of this has made his erection go away. It throbs away eagerly between the warm, slimy coils of the slug that are still continuing their torturous rubbing. Tim can't stop himself from moaning as the coils squeeze tightly around his cock and balls both, which the slug takes as a permission to plunge its cock deep inside him again, making Tim's throat convulse around its length.

That helpless reaction seems to push the slug over the edge; before Tim knows it, the slug is spraying its mucous semen straight into his helpless, open esophagus. Tim gasps for breath when the cock finally withdraws from his mouth, straining against the slug's tight grip before it suddenly loosens around him, and then the creature is crawling away from him. Tim finds himself on the ground, naked but unrestrained, free to go.

He should grab his keys and run. Tim gets up on his hands and knees, swaying unsteadily as he tries to will himself to move.

"No," he whispers. "I-"

But the spunk down in his stomach is so, _so_ warm.

"Please," he hears himself say, collapsing back down. His cock jerks, spilling pre-come onto the pavement. "Please, don't stop."

*

It's two slugs that have him next. One goes for his arse, nestling itself between Tim's trembling legs and rubbing its head against his buttocks while the other one starts feeding him its cock. This time, Tim opens his mouth wide, taking the slug's gooey blue length in, breathing in its earthy smell.

 _More_ , he wants to say, relaxing his body as the tip of the other slug's cock starts to probe its way between his arse cheeks, teasing his hole. _Stop_ , he thinks.

His thoughts don't keep him from sucking the cock inside his mouth. It's the strangest thing he has ever had there: it's soft like jelly but it's just so _filling_ , stretching against his lips so hard the corners of his mouth are straining, and he has difficult time moving his tongue. He tries anyway, tries to taste and stroke and explore, but he has to settle for just sucking in the end, opening his throat up so the slug can enter it as deeply as possible. He feels satisfied when the blue cock swells even more in his mouth, and when he opens his eyes, he can see through the cock's translucent surface that it's already filling with sperm.

Meanwhile, the cock in his arse is filling him up quite nicely too, all the way to the rim and seemingly further than that, creating the most maddening pressure against his prostate. Tim moans, rocking his hips, which makes both slugs writhe faster against him, their bodies sliding against his swollen, throbbing cock. He sucks the cock in his mouth harder, bucking against the squirming cock in his arse in an attempt to take it deeper in. He wants it all. 

(He doesn't want any of this.)

The cock in his mouth drags back enough to come onto Tim's tongue, coating it with its thick spunk. The sour taste shocks Tim out of his dazed state for few seconds, but it doesn't take long until sweet, intoxicating warmth is spreading all over his body, and he moans again as the cock slips out from between his lips for good, leaving a sticky trail on his jaw. The cock inside his arse is still twitching and rubbing against him, kneading his prostate with force that makes his toes curl.

Tim comes with a sharp cry, his body clenching hard around the cock inside him as his own cock spills its insignificant seed. The cock within him shudders and in the matter of seconds it's flooding Tim's arse with its semen, jerking inside him so hard Tim's entire body moves along with it. Tim pants as the cock pulls out of him, sending trickles of spunk running down onto his thighs and leaving his arse gaping.

He doesn't get much time to recover until the next pair of slugs is on him.

*

Tim doesn't know how long it lasts. There seems to be an endless amount of slugs, all of which want to have a go at him; they go for his arse or mouth mostly, but some choose to stick by his cock, wrapping their own cocks around it and squeezing and rubbing it until he's moaning away in throes of an orgasm. He loses count of how many times he comes that night, his body lost in bliss, but he tries to keep an eye on the number of the slugs, how they're thinning out.

This has to end, eventually.

By the time there is finally only one slug left, Tim is a complete, utter wreck, lying on the street covered in slime and leaking spunk from mouth and arse both. The slug is writhing around his legs, its blue, flexible cock curling tight around Tim's sore, pink one. Tim cries out at the sensation, dragging his palm over his hard, sensitive nipples as a hot trickle of pre-come spills out of his cock. He tries to move along with the slug, doesn't quite manage it, so he shakes his head in order to clear it, propping himself up to his elbows.

That's when he sees it: a white spike, covered in mucus, protruding from the slug's head and pointing straight at his hip. Tim stiffens, the heat inside him subsiding to fear as he starts to thrash, trying to pull free from the slug's hold.

"Wait, wait-!"

The slug comes, spilling it's seed over Tim's belly, and at the same time it fires its spike at Tim. The spike enters Tim's hip, digging into his skin but not driving in deep. As Tim cries out in pain, the slug releases its choke hold on his legs and slithers off him, disappearing fast into the darkness.

It takes Tim a while to realize that he's alone.

He lies there, still achingly hard, his hip stinging with the spike sticking out of it. Tim touches the spike gingerly, grasping its end so he can slowly pull it out of him, hissing in pain as it slides out. He glances down at the wound, not sure whether he's relieved or not that it isn't bleeding; what would be more normal? He is still holding the spike as he gets up on his feet, standing there on shaky legs as he looks around for his keys.

Tim takes care to pay no attention to the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Once he finds his keys, Tim scrambles out of the alley, ignoring his nudity and the slime on his skin. His house is right there around the corner and he needs to get there fast; if the spunk down his belly fucked with him so bad, he doesn't want to know what a shot of mucus straight into his bloodstream does.

Somewhere deep inside him, he knows it's no use; he will find out anyway.


	2. Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is there when Tim returns to his house, and things deteriorate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set-up for the Jon/Tim.

When Jon arrives to Tim's house, Tim isn't there. It's already quite late, which means that Tim could be out; maybe he's having a drink with his friends, or maybe he's sleeping with someone, or possibly he's doing both. Or maybe he's plotting Jon's demise, meaning Jon should have timed his stakeout better to catch him in the action. In any case, Jon could be wasting his time here, but he nevertheless decides to stay for a while, keeping a close eye on Tim's house.  
  
He is ready to leave after half an hour of watching when he spots some movement on Tim's yard, which makes him grab his binoculars from his bag. It's probably just some animal, but it's good to check just in case; it wouldn't be good if someone tried to burglarize his employee's house while he just stood by.  
  
What he sees is something more upsetting.  
  
It's Tim, crawling on the ground on his hands and knees- completely naked, covered all over in something slick and shiny. His movements are slow and drunken, and he stops several times to pant, clutching onto his keys and something else - a stick? - with one hand. But he keeps moving, heading towards the front door of his house.  
  
Jon puts his binoculars down, standing there stunned for a moment. He has no idea what could have happened, what could have done this to Tim. But he knows it's a matter of 'what', not 'who'.  
  
That makes him put his binoculars back in his bag and leave his spot. He starts to walk towards Tim's house, ready to get to the bottom of this.  
  
*  
  
Tim is in hell.  
  
Just as he feared, the spike has made all the heat he experienced before so much worse. He had tried dashing all the way to his house; he has been forced to crawl instead, and resist the constant urge to stop and wank. He hasn't even been successful at that; right before he made it to his yard, he had stopped and given in, jerked off until the pressure inside him had eased- for a second. Now, his cock is hardening fast again, and all he can think of is getting a dick inside him.  
  
When his front door is finally just a few feet away from him, Tim's entire body sags with relief. He forces himself to focus, however, trying to push himself up to his feet; he starts shaking hard, finding himself sinking back to the ground. He groans in frustration, stopping to collect his energy again as he tells himself it will be all right once he's inside his house. He doesn't really believe that, but he's going to pretend his hardest; he needs to believe in something tonight.  
  
"Tim?"  
  
The voice alone is enough to make him jump, but it's the sight of long, slim legs that have stepped right in front of him that really startles Tim. He looks up, finding Jon staring down at him with a mixture of fascination and disgust on his face. Tim stares back at him, rage flickering through his mind - _what the fuck are you doing here, how dare you_ \- before it gives path to despair.  
  
"Jon," he croaks, crawling towards Jon until he's at Jon's feet. He reaches out, hesitating before grabbing Jon from his trouser leg, gripping it hard as he forces himself up to his knees. "I need you to fuck me right now."

*

Tim looks even worse from up close than he did from the distance. Jon can now see that the substance covering Tim is slime and he is absolutely soaked in it, to the point it drips from him. Beneath the slime, he looks battered and exhausted, shaking all over; Jon can't help a swell of pity inside him. But Tim's words make him freeze.  
  
"What?" He looks down as Tim holds onto his trouser leg, eyes growing wide when he sees that Tim is fully erect. "Oh my God, Tim!"  
  
"You need to fuck me this instant," Tim says again, swaying a bit as he worries on his lower lip between his teeth. "I-I was attacked by these things, slugs. They fucked with my head. They fucked _me_." Tim glares up at Jon, and it hurts Jon to see how despondent his eyes are. "Jon, you've got to help me."  
  
Jon hesitates before crouching down, pulling Tim's hand off his trousers so he can take it into his own. He gasps when Tim grabs him and draws his hand close, starting to kiss along his knuckles; Jon shakes his head and yanks his hand free so he can grasp Tim's shoulder.  
  
"Tim, focus," he says, trying not to flinch when Tim ducks his head down and tries to kiss him on the inside of his wrist. "We need to get you inside. You need a shower."  
  
Promise of a shower seems to get to Tim, who ceases with his attempts to kiss Jon and starts to get up instead. He does so too hastily, falling back to the ground and almost dragging Jon down with him, but after a while he manages to stand up on wobbly legs, not resisting when Jon grabs him from the arm.  
  
"Come on now," Jon says, keeping his voice soft as he takes Tim's keys from his hand.  
  
He eyes at the white spike that Tim is holding, but he says nothing of it yet; he can question Tim when Tim is less out of it. He leads Tim inside his house and takes him to the bathroom - he knows where it is - having to shrug Tim's hands off him or push him away from time to time. In the shower stall, Tim leans his head against the wall and starts to masturbate, making Jon blush hard.  
  
"Tim, take control of yourself." Jon takes his jacket and shoes off, rolling up his trouser legs and sleeves before walking into the stall. Jon takes the shower head and starts to run the water, turning it cold before turning its spray on Tim.  
  
"Hey!" Tim straightens up, turning to glare at Jon over his shoulder. The anger in his eyes is a relief to Jon; Tim looks like Tim again. "Arsehole," Tim mutters, but he doesn't try to move, closing his eyes as Jon moves the spray of water along his body.  
  
"It's for your own good, Tim." Jon can't deny it; it feels sort of good to have Tim under his power like this, doing what he says. It's something Tim has trouble with these days. "Let's get you clean," Jon says, lifting the spray up to Tim's head.  
  
Tim sneers, but he starts to scrub himself clean under the falling water, shivering at the cold. He looks better the instant the layers of slime start to peel off his body, but he is still obviously a wreck, and his erection isn't deflating as fast as Jon would have hoped.  
  
All along, Tim keeps holding onto the white spike.  
  
"I can't believe you asked me to fuck you," Jon says, trying to be conversational even as he brings the spray down to Tim's arse. Tim huffs before reaching behind himself, easing two fingers inside his arse while Jon tries not to look.  
  
"I still want you to," Tim says in a low voice, twisting his fingers and forcing out globs of slime- no, semen, Jon realizes, face burning hot over the realization. He forces himself to look down at Tim's calves, noticing that they're bruised.  
  
He wonders how strong the creatures that had Tim were, how much he must have struggled.  
  
"It's not going to happen," he says when Tim pulls his fingers out, washing the remnants of the slimy spunk off Tim's thighs. He turns the water off after a while, putting the shower head back into its place before turning around to look for a towel. "Look, Tim, I-"  
  
He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence.  
  
Jon cries out when something sharp stabs him right in the flesh between his neck and his shoulder, pressing in just enough to pierce the skin. He whirls towards Tim, smacking his hand away and sending the spike in Tim's hand flying to the bathroom floor. He slaps his hand over the wound on his neck, staring at Tim in disbelief.  
  
"Tim," he says. "What-?"  
  
That's when he feels _it_.  
  
It's the faintest stirring in his groin first, but soon heat is pooling down into the pit of his belly and spreading elsewhere from there, lighting his whole being into fire. Jon cries out, surprised and awed, feeling as his cock fills with blood, straining against his trousers. He looks at Tim, properly this time, Tim who is staring at him with wide eyes, eyes that are both stunned and victorious.  
  
"Now you have to," Tim says. "They gave me a gift, you see. And now it's forwarded to you. You're welcome."  
  
As Tim grins slowly, all Jon can see is red.

*

Deep down inside, Tim knows he has fucked up.  
  
Right now, however, Tim starts laughing, standing there cold, wet and quivering before Jon who is staring at him in silence, at rage. Tim can't even blame him; he can't believe he just stabbed Jon with some flying slug penis thing, either. It's insane. What the fuck is wrong with him?  
  
He can't stop laughing until Jon steps forward and slaps him hard on the face, grabbing him tight from his arms as he shoves Tim into the nearest wall.  
  
"What," Jon says, bringing his face close enough to Tim's that there is only a breath separating them, "the _fuck_ is this?"  
  
The word 'fuck' sounds too good coming from Jon's mouth, which is looking mighty nice too; nice enough that Tim leans in for a kiss, brushing his lips against Jon's for one electric instance before Jon pulls away from him and slaps him again. This time, the strike is harsh enough to actually hurt, and Tim groans.  
  
"Some slug mating thing, I think," he says, lifting his hand up so he can nurse his stinging cheek. Tim glances over to the spike on the floor, noticing that it appears to be dissolving; maybe it was never meant to last long. Just long enough to fuck him and Jon up, make even a bigger mess of their relationship.  
  
His wandering thoughts are cut off when Jon grabs his chin and forces his face forward, gripping him tight while leaning close to him.  
  
"You stabbed me!" he shouts. "You poisoned me, you-!" Jon closes his eyes, breathing deeply in and out as he tries to calm down, even as his fingertips keep digging painfully into Tim's jaw. "You know, Tim, I tried! I tried to be fair to you, I even tried to trust you, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to do it."  
  
Jon blows out a breath from between his lips, his grip on Tim's jaw easing a bit.  
  
"Now I know there was a reason for it," he says, his voice almost soft. "Now I know I was right."  
  
Even in his dazed state, the words hit Tim and hard. For a moment, he's stunned to silence, feeling hollow inside, but it doesn't take long for the heat to fill him up again, and his cock twitches over Jon being so near to him. He rolls his hips, trying to push them against Jon's, but Jon notices his attempt, pulling away from him again.  
  
"Please." Tim hates the whimper in his voice, but he has no pride left in him anymore; he reaches out and rests his wet hands on Jon's shoulders, squeezing him as he tries to maintain an eye contact. "I need this so bad. Please."  
  
Jon scoffs. "You mean, I should fuck you? I-"  
  
He falls silent.  
  
Tim gasps when Jon reaches up and grasps his hair tight, pulling his head back.  
  
"Yes. I think I'll do precisely that." Jon smiles, his eyes full of wrath. "I think I'll give you exactly what you deserve."


	3. Second Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon lets Tim have it. Sex pollen noncon, dom!Jon.

There is no need for further words after that: gripping Tim from his hair, Jon walks him out of the bathroom and starts leading him to where he knows Tim's bedroom is. He keeps his pace brisk, his grip on Tim firm; if Tim is so desperate to be fucked, Jon is going to give him exactly what he wants.

But they're going to do it _his_ way.

Tim's bedroom is tidy to the point it's almost pristine, with a large bed that has surely hosted many guests by now, possibly several at the same time. Jon shoves Tim towards it, staying close to Tim as he starts to remove his necktie.

"Kneel down and put your hands behind your back," he orders; he's not going to give Tim another chance to lash out at him. He pulls the tie loose while Tim lowers himself down onto his knees, crossing his wrists behind his back.

"Bossy much, boss?" Tim comments as Jon kneels behind him to bind his hands, grunting as Jon pulls the tie tight.

"One must be around you," Jon replies. "If I had been more assertive from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened."

Yes, he realizes, he should have aimed to control Tim from the beginning. Obviously, Tim can't be trusted in anything, including looking after himself; what Tim needs is a stern hand to guide him, to put him down into the dirt where he belongs. Jon has to be that person now, given that nobody else is volunteering for the job.

"Stay down," he says, grabbing the hem of his sweater vest. "You'll get to use your mouth soon enough."

He catches Tim shivering over his words right before he pulls his sweater vest over his head, and the sight stirs something inside him. Still, Jon tries not to be hasty, keeping his eye on Tim as he rids himself of his clothing. Tim doesn't move from his spot, but he does rock his hips back and forth, his fingers curling and uncurling above the small of his back as he ruts against the empty air.

Jon bites his lip at the sight, pushing his underwear down his legs and stepping out of them. He puts himself between Tim and the bed and sits down on the latter, spreading his legs wide open while reaching out for Tim's hair again.

"I," he starts to say, but Tim is already moving, diving down between Jon's thighs to rub his cheek against the inside of one before turning his face towards it, scratching his teeth against the sensitive flesh. Jon lets out a soft hiss, grasping Tim from his hair and pulling his head up, waiting until Tim bothers to meet his eyes.

"I want you to open your mouth and keep it open," he says, holding Tim tight by his hair as he takes his cock into his hand. He gives himself a few strokes, gripping Tim harder when Tim tries to surge forward, practically panting now. After few moments of straining against Jon's grip, Tim seems to remember what he was supposed to do, opening his mouth wide, even closing his eyes as he waits.

It's that submission, more than anything, that makes Jon's cock throb hard in his hand. He pulls Tim's head down to his groin, sliding his length into his hot mouth.

Tim moans the moment Jon's cock enters his mouth, the sound of it vibrating around Jon's length. He knows what to do, closing his lips tight around Jon's cock as he starts to stroke the tender skin with his tongue, taking it in deep. Jon lets Tim set the pace first, watching as Tim's head bops up and down, biting his lip over the swirls of Tim's tongue and the strong suction of his mouth. After a while, he tightens his hold on Tim's hair, wrapping one leg around Tim's shoulders as he pulls him close to his groin.

"Tell me something," Jon says, although he knows damn well that Tim isn't in any position to talk. "You say you got fucked by slugs. Did you enjoy it?"

Holding Tim's head still, he slams inside Tim's mouth, his cock pushing all the way to Tim's throat. Tim gags in surprise, thrashing a bit in Jon's grip, but he settles down, nodding curtly as he breathes deeply through his nostrils, the muscles of his neck trembling as he tries to relax them.

"Did you do it on purpose?"

He thrusts again, gasping at the tightness of Tim's throat; he has never been this deep inside anyone's mouth before, and he can't deny that it feels good. Tim twists in his grasp, shaking his head hard as he opens his eyes and looks up at Jon. His gaze is clouded with lust, but Jon thinks he sees devastation there too, and offense.

"I think you did." Jon is rocking his hips back and forth now, gripping Tim tighter with his hand and leg both as he slams into his mouth over and over again. "I think it's just in your nature, to be a _whore_."

Tim is shaking his head now, or at least trying to; Jon doesn't let him move much as he fucks Tim's mouth, moving harder and faster as his orgasm gets nearer. "Of course, I never thought you were a slut to this extent, but you just hid it well, didn't you? That you're insatiable."

He thrusts forward and pushes Tim's head down to his groin at the same time, until Tim's nose is nestled in his pubic hair and Tim's throat is squeezing tight around his cock. Tim groans around him, breathing hard and fast against Jon's pubis, and it's those desperate puffs of air that turn out to be too much for Jon; he starts to come, hips bucking as he coats Tim's throat with his spunk. Tim groans, loud and desperate, throat twitching around Jon's length as if milking it.

Jon cries out over the intensity of it all, pulling Tim's head up and lowering his leg from his shoulders. Tim gasps for breath the moment he's off Jon's cock, his eyes red and filling with irritated tears.

"Fuck you," he says between coughs, blinking hard as he glowers at Jon.

"I would watch my attitude if I were you," Jon says, although he eases his grip on Tim's hair a bit. "Do you still want me to fuck you?" Jon's cock, though freshly spent, still stands erect between his thighs, and he can feel that it's ready to go again.

Tim glares at him, but his shoulders slump. "Yes."

*

Jon, the arsehole that he is, makes no move first. He keeps staring down at Tim, his fingers still twisted in Tim’s hair, until he releases him, lifting his legs up on the bed so he can shuffle backwards on it. Tim watches as Jon lies down and grasps his cock, stroking it idly as he looks over to Tim.

"If you want my cock so badly," Jon calls out, "come and sit on it."

Much to his shame, Tim doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets up on his feet and climbs up on the bed, the softness of the mattress welcome against his knees after the roughness of the carpet. He straddles Jon, brushing his arse against Jon’s cock while Jon reaches out and rests his hand on Tim’s hip, guiding the head of his cock to Tim’s hole.

"I see you have a wound there," Jon says, rolling his hips upwards until his cock touches against Tim’s arse. Tim moans, spreading his legs a little wider so he can rub down against Jon’s smooth, slick cock. He forgets all about Jon’s words until Jon’s thumb brushes against the puncture mark on his hip, his parting gift from the last slug that had him.

"How do you think I got that spike?" Tim rocks back and forth against Jon’s cock, gasping at how thick it feels against him. It’s going to feel amazing once it’s inside him, he knows it. "Jon, please," he says, hands balling up into fists behind his back.

Without a word, Jon grasps him tight from his hip, holding his cock against Tim’s eager, waiting hole while he starts to pull Tim down.

Even after everything that has happened during the night, Tim can’t help but pant as Jon’s cock slides into him. He closes his eyes, bending his head back as he pushes down with his hips, taking Jon in until he can feel his buttocks come to contact against Jon’s warm, tight balls. The two of them stay like that for a moment, with Jon stroking Tim’s hipbone with his thumb while Tim rocks against him, moaning as Jon’s cock throbs inside him.

"You know what to do," Jon says, and Tim does; he rises up along Jon’s cock and thrusts down again, and does it again and again.

He tries to be slow and patient first, but it doesn’t take him long to forget all about that; soon, he is riding Jon hard and fast, gasping whenever Jon’s cock brushes against his prostate. Beneath him, Jon is passive, grinding his teeth together while he grips Tim’s hips, using both of his hands now. Tim doesn’t mind first, as he’s too focused to take Jon’s cock as deep inside him as possible, but after a while he starts to grow irritated. He doesn’t like to be ignored.

"Come on, you pillow princess," he says, waiting until Jon looks up at him. "Touch me."

Jon blinks at him, then lifts his hand up and swats Tim hard on his arse. Tim cries out in surprise, his arse squeezing tight around Jon’s cock while his own cock jerks out a dribble of pre-come.

"Not what I meant," he mutters, trying his best to sound angry even as his cheeks burn hot with pleasure. Jon has the nerve to laugh at him, swatting him again.

"If you want me to touch your cock," Jon says, "you have to beg me for it."

Tim snaps his mouth shut, not wanting to. But he knows that’s a battle he’s going to lose; he is still so very hard, still so desperate, and he really wants to come already. He sighs deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Jon again.

"Please, Jon," he begs, continuing to bounce up and down on Jon’s cock. He loves the slick slide of it, how thick and filling it is inside him. "Please, touch me."

Jon narrows his eyes at him, hand rising to another smack.

"Not good enough." He gives Tim two strikes in succession this time, one on each arse cheek. "You always brag about being a smooth-talker, Tim. Convince me to touch you."

It’s so unfair. Tim rocks against Jon’s cock, toes curling over every hit on his prostate, but while he could come this way, it’s not what he wants. He wants Jon to touch him, to acknowledge him.

"Jon, please, I need it so bad." He starts to ride Jon a little faster, ignoring the strain in the muscles of his thighs. "I need your attention, boss, please."

"Why?" Jon smacks his arse, grabbing one cheek to give it a harsh squeeze.

It hits Tim then what Jon wants him to say, and a hollow laughter breaks out of him. If he had any dignity- if he had pride- those things have been robbed from him tonight. He bites his lip, resisting for one second more before giving in.

"Because I’m a desperate, cock-hungry whore," he says, grimacing when Jon’s fingers dig deeper into his flesh over every word. "Jon, for fuck’s sake."

Jon releases his arse, letting his hand slide up to the small of Tim’s back as he sits up.

"Yes," he says, wrapping an arm around Tim while he reaches down for his cock. "A whore is what you are."

But he’s _finally_ touching Tim, grasping his cock tight and stroking it, thrusting up into him. Tim moans, rutting back against Jon as his cock leaks in Jon’s hand, his head lolling back as he exposes his neck to Jon. It’s a submission, yet another one Tim has done tonight, but Jon doesn’t take advantage of it; he keeps stroking Tim’s cock instead, grunting softly as he fucks him, as he pushes Tim steadily towards a climax.

Tim comes with a strangled shout, clenching tight around Jon’s cock as he spills his spunk all over Jon’s hand. Jon cries out, gripping Tim’s cock tight as he slams all the way inside Tim, balls pressing against Tim’s buttocks as he holds himself inside him, filling Tim to the rim with his seed. Tim pants, trying to rest his head against Jon’s, but Jon pulls away from him, lying down on the bed again.

Of course, the rejection stings.

"We’re not done," Jon says, and he’s right; Tim is still hard, and so is Jon. Jon rests his hands down on Tim’s hips again, stroking his thumbs over the bones. "Shall we go on?"

Tim scoffs. "As if we have a choice."

He certainly doesn’t.

*

It goes on for a long time. Jon ends up ordering Tim into different positions: on his stomach, on his knees, on his sides, and on his back on the two times Jon decides to fuck his mouth. He ends up coming accidentally on Tim’s face on the first one; on the second it’s on purpose. He likes the sight of Tim with splatters of come on his lips and cheeks, how utterly filthy he looks.

Degradation is such a good look on his assistant.

Part of Jon still feels that way when they both finally go soft after many hours of fucking, but the rest of him is beyond mortified. While Tim lies spent on his bed, too exhausted to even move, Jon gets up, hesitating for a long time before he decides to leave the bed. He seeks out his clothes, gets dressed again.

When he’s done, he goes back to Tim, undoing the necktie around his wrists to release him. As Tim brings his hands to his sides, propping himself up to his elbows, Jon reaches out for Tim's shoulder.

"Tim," he says.

Tim flinches away from him before Jon’s hand even makes a contact.

"Jon, just leave." Tim starts to shiver, hanging his head low. "Please, just go."

Jon thinks he should insist on staying; he's not sure if it's good to leave Tim alone. But the rigidity of Tim's spine convinces him to get up, and leave the room without another word.

*

Tim remains in the bed for a long time after he has heard Jon leave the house.

He wants to cry, but there is nothing left in him anymore, not even anger. He wants to be angry, at the slugs, at Jon, at his whole fucked up life; all he feels is emptiness, like he's been carved from inside out, turned into a husk. He wants to disappear. He curls up on his bed, trying to do exactly that.

Tim knows there won't be such reliefs for him, however.

With a deep sigh, Tim heaves himself up,  scrambling off the bed so he can head to the bathroom.


End file.
